


I Have Lived A Life

by em2mb



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Domestic, F/M, Future Fic, Pregnancy, Stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em2mb/pseuds/em2mb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I have lived a life. My only regret is that you didn't get to live yours.”</em>
</p><p>The man who would become Peggy Carter’s husband isn’t even named in Captain America’s story. But to Peggy Carter, he was everything.</p><p>A look back at her life with Daniel Sousa.</p><p>(Minor spoilers for 2x04, “Smoke and Mirrors.”)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Lived A Life

**Author's Note:**

> *whispers* I’m so sorry.

 *

**October 14, 1986  
Wheaton, New Jersey**

The ornate frame is heavy in Peggy’s hands as she studies the younger versions of herself and her late husband, smiling demurely in their wedding photo some thirty years earlier. She’s never much cared for this particular portrait - the Los Angeles photographer who’d taken it talked her into having it tinted, a decision Peggy later regretted - but Daniel had always loved it, the striking turquoise suit she’d worn.

“Mom?”

At the sound of Michael’s voice, Peggy hastily returns the photo to the credenza. A second later, her son is wrapping her in a fierce hug. “Michael,” she complains, “let your mother breathe.”

He obliges, holding her at arm’s length. “How are you holding up?” Michael wants to know, his kind face etched with concern. He’s 36, a dead ringer for his father at the age Peggy met Daniel. Of course, Daniel had fought a hard war. He’d aged much faster than his son, a successful D.C. newspaperman.

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Peggy replies, dodging Michael’s question. “Why, you must have dropped everything to be here!”

Finally, he releases her. “That’s usually what you do when someone dies,” he says, fiddling with the strap of his shoulder bag. He forces a smile. “How can I help?”

Peggy gives her to-do list a quick run-through. “Well,” she says, ticking each task off on a finger, “I’ve checked in with the funeral home and Father De Rosa. My assistant will handle the florist. I still need to call the cemetery back. They usually don’t do burials on Friday, but I think I can persuade them to make an exception for your father.”

She chooses to ignore Michael’s muttered, “More like make an exception for you.”

“Oh! I could use a hand getting the upstairs bedrooms ready,” says Peggy. “I’m afraid they’ve been terribly neglected.” She flashes her son an apologetic smile. It had been a decade, easily, since Daniel had been able to climb the stairs, and she found herself keeping to the first floor as well. 

Michael stares at her curiously. “So what, dust, vacuum, change the sheets?”

“You’re right - ” Peggy steps into the kitchen “ - I should just ring the housekeeper.”

But she’s no sooner picked up the phone than Michael’s hand closes around hers. He hangs up the phone. “Mom, I’ll clean. I don’t mind. That’s why I came, to help.”

She glances down at their clasped hands. “I just don’t want you and your sister to have to worry about anything, that’s all.”

“Your husband died not a day ago, and you’re worried about us?” Michael replies, not unkindly. He drops a kiss on his mother’s forehead. “Let us take care of you for a change. In fact, I insist. It’s what Dad would have wanted.”

His eyes are so like his father’s Peggy has to look away. While Daniel’s death had been sudden, she’s not sure it could be called unexpected. The wear and tear of lugging himself about on one leg had been bound to catch up with him eventually, a fall forcing him into early retirement some five years earlier. The amount of time he could tolerate wearing a prosthesis had been less and less, until one day he’d been waiting for her to get home from work in a wheelchair. Not once did Daniel complain, but Peggy knew the loss of independence would take its toll. So she had finally relented on her policy of keeping work and home separate, regaling him each evening with tales from the office that far outstripped his clearance.

“You should know,” Peggy says, a lump welling in her throat, “he wasn’t lying when we called on Sunday. It had been a good day. We’d even gotten out for a little walk, though it left him so tired he turned in right after dinner. If I’d known - ”

She breaks off. She hasn’t the foggiest what she would have done had she known Sunday night would be the last she had with Daniel. She’d read mission reports until midnight, at which point a very sleepy Daniel had urged her to hit the light. Peggy had fallen asleep as she preferred, her head on his chest, but when she’d woken up, she could not hear his heartbeat. The S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor she’d frantically summoned concluded he’d barely been dead an hour.

Michael’s arms close around her. “There’s nothing you could have done,” he assures her. “OK? I’m just glad it wasn’t at the hospital. He would have hated that.”

_ Yes, he would have.  _ “Have you talked to your sister?”

He lets go of his mother somewhat reluctantly. “Yeah, we talked yesterday. I had questions for the obituary and didn’t want to bother you.”

Peggy hadn’t been surprised to see the tribute to Daniel in that morning’s paper. “You wouldn’t have been a bother, my love.” She touches Michael’s cheek. “And see? You’ve already done so much.”

“Mom, I spent most of 1973 writing obituaries.” That year he’d been a cub reporter for the Post. He hesitates. “Was it OK?”

“I didn’t even have a chance to read it before your aunt called to complain.”

Michael groans. “Which one?”

“Which one do you think?”

He rubs his mouth. “Inês, of course.” 

“She thinks you forgot the circumflex intentionally,” says Peggy, and she has to cover her smile. Her sister-in-law, the wife of Daniel’s youngest brother, had lived with them while Richard fought in Korea. They’d never cared much for each other. “She also didn’t care for the picture.” Peggy, however, rather liked it. It had been from Daniel’s SSR days, back when they’d first met. “It was certainly some obituary, Michael.”

“You aren’t angry, are you?” he asks, clearly anxious.

“Of course not, dear. Though the neighbors will undoubtedly talk. You’ve made my work sound rather more exciting than operating a switchboard.” A smile tugs at the corner of Peggy’s mouth as she says this.

Michael’s, too. “Oh right,” he says. “You’re supposed to work for the phone company.”

*

_**September 25, 1958  
Wheaton, New Jersey** _

_ “Daniel, I can walk,” Peggy insists, though she knows full well it won’t make him drop the arm he has around her waist. _

_ “That makes one of us,” Daniel quips. He isn’t wearing his prosthesis - after all, it’s the middle of the night - so they make slow progress across the living room. While Peggy is very eager to sit, she decides it won’t hurt to humor him just this once. In the kitchen, he pulls out a chair for her. It skids loudly over the linoleum. They both freeze. But their children, asleep upstairs, don’t stir. “Jesus, Peg,” Daniel mutters after hitting the light. Her shirt is crusted with day-old blood. _

_ There’s sweat beaded on his brow as he hobbles off to get the first aid kit, and at once Peggy feels guilty. She’d been so eager to get home to him and the kids she hadn’t stopped to consider he might panic when she turned up at a quarter to 2. _

_ “I’m sorry to have frightened you,” Peggy says primly. “It was going to be at least an hour before a S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor could examine me, and I was oh-so-ready to be home.” _

_ Daniel, who’s doing his damnedest not to make any more noise as he moves about the kitchen, stops at the sink. “I could have come down to Camp Lehigh,” he says, wetting a rag with which to clean her wounds. _

_ “And done what with Michael and Colleen?” Peggy counters. This seems kinder than pointing out he lacks the necessary clearance to enter the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. _

_ He pulls out a chair for himself. “They missed you, you know.” _

And I, them.  _ “They’ll understand someday.” _

_ “Not exactly how I imagined undressing you when you got home, Peg,” Daniel says as he helps her out of her tattered shirt. He swallows hard, eyes raking the deep gash below her ribs.  “Get gored by a bull?” _

_ “Funnily enough, I was in Spain,” Peggy replies. She doesn’t mention it was just a quick stop in Madrid to refuel. “Oh, come on, Daniel, don’t make that face. It’s not so bad.” _

_ Still, she winces as he begins to dab at the wound. “How’s Dum Dum?” _

_ “What?” Peggy says sharply. The involvement of Dum Dum Dugan and the other Howling Commandos in S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be top secret. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks.” _

_ “C’mon, Peg. I know Dum Dum’s handiwork when I see it. Though,” he says this lightly, though she can tell he’s not happy she tried to lie, “can you tell him I don’t appreciate it when he leaves my wife looking like the bride of Frankenstein?” _

_ There hadn’t been time for anything beyond messy sutures, not with two agents down. But Peggy isn’t about to tell Daniel this. “The kids behaved?” _

_ “Peggy.” _

_ “I’ve been gone for ten days, Daniel. I’d like to know how my children are.” _

_ “They’re good kids, Peggy. They always behave, even when you’re gone,” This stings, though she doubts that was his intention. “We’re really not going to talk about it?” _

_ “Talk about what, Daniel?” she asks, feigning ignorance. _

_ “Whatever happened over there.” _

_ Peggy bristles. “You of all people should know I can’t talk about a classified mission.” _

_ “Can’t? Or won’t?” His hand drops to her hip. “We’ve been married ten years, Peg. I know what a bad day at the office looks like in our line of work. This?” Daniel’s thumb skims the haphazard row of stitches, the tell-tale bruise of broken ribs. “This is beyond a bad day.” _

_ Eventually, Peggy might tell him about it. But tonight, she just wants to sleep next to him, wake up tomorrow and surprise the kids at breakfast. She drops her head to her husband’s shoulder, voice muffled by his shirt. “Daniel, just tell me Michael and Colleen are all right.” _

_ “C’mere,” he says, drawing her closer with one arm. He kisses her forehead. “They’re fine, Peg. We missed you terribly, of course, but we’re just fine. Colleen won her spelling bee. Isabel came down for the weekend and took the kids to the fall festival in Millville, bought them each their own funnel cake. I thought I’d never get them to bed.” _

_ Peggy laughs, almost deliriously. “Oh, Daniel.” It feels so good to be back home, in his arms. _

_ He kisses her again, this time on the lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” She nods as he releases her. There’s a pause. “Though I did get a call from Mikey’s teacher the other day.” _

_ She groans. “He got in another fight with Dick Preston, didn’t he?” When Daniel doesn’t reply, she says in a mocking approximation of his American accent, “‘They’re good kids, Peggy. They always behave.’”  _

_ “I don’t sound like that,” Daniel protests, then ducks his head to hide his smile. _

_ “I assure you,” Peggy tells her husband dryly, “you all sound like that to those of us who speak the Queen’s English. Out with it, darling. What did your son do this time?” _

_ “Why’s he always my son when he gets in trouble?” _

_ “Stop avoiding the question, Daniel. Did he go running his mouth off again?” _

_ “Like mother, like son.” Peggy doesn’t smile. Daniel tries, “He was defending you, you know.” _

_ Peggy rolls her eyes. “Oh, honestly. The men in this family. I can protect myself, you know.” _

_ “Is that what you told the bull?” _

_ She sighs. “If Miss Northcraft called, may I assume you handled it and the matter requires no further attention from me? Daniel,” Peggy prompts. _

_ “Well,” he says, “there’s a chance I asked why she was calling me, not Dick Preston’s dad.” Daniel smiles sheepishly. “We’re scheduled to meet with the principal next week.” _

_ “Last time I leave you in charge,” Peggy mutters thoughtlessly. It’s the wrong thing to say because she can’t unsee her husband’s hopeful eyes. She clears her throat. “Well, at any rate, it’s good to be - ” _

_ That’s when she’s interrupted by a thump. “What was that?” she demands. _

_ Daniel’s already reached for his crutch. “Stay here,” he commands, tone deadly, grabbing the .22 they keep hidden in an upper cabinet neither of the kids can reach. But a second later, she hears him switch to his dad voice. “Mikey,” he says, quickly tucking the gun in his waistband. “What are you doing out of bed?” _

_ “I thought I heard Mom. Is she home, Dad? Is she?”  _

_ The eagerness in Michael’s voice makes Peggy’s heart swell, but she’s also still covered in blood. She can see Michael behind Daniel, who’s blocking the doorway, craning his neck. “C’mon, kiddo. You’ve got school - ” _

_ Too late. Michael catches sight of her and immediately begins trying to slip past his father. “Mom! Mom!” he cries, almost knocking Daniel over in his rush to get to his mother. _

_ But Michael’s delight turns quickly to horror. He bursts into tears when he sees her exposed midsection. “I tried to tell him!” he wails, launching himself into Peggy’s arms. “I tried to tell Dad something was wrong, but he didn’t believe me!” _

_ He’s knocked the wind out of her, so all Peggy can do is stroke Michael’s dark hair. Daniel limps to her aid, though, and tries to pry their son off. “Easy, kiddo. Your mom needs rest, and so do you.” _

_ “Your father’s right, Michael,” Peggy manages through the extraordinary pain of having her broken ribs jostled. “I’m going to go to sleep, too. Now give me a kiss and apologize to your father.” _

_ “But - ” _

_ “Michael Thomas Sousa, you know better than to rush past your father.” _

_ He hangs his head. “Sorry, Dad.” _

_ “You’re fine, Mikey,” he says, though he’s quick to grab their son by the shoulders as soon as Michael’s grip on Peggy loosens. “I’ll come check on you in a little bit, OK?” _

_ “OK,” Michael sniffles. He gives Peggy a peck on the cheek, brown eyes sorrowful. “Good night, Mom.” _

_ “We’ll talk in the morning, darling,” Peggy promises.  _

_ Daniel waits until their son is thundering up the stairs before declaring, “I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t go wake up Colleen.” He starts to turn. _

_ Peggy clears her throat. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Daniel?” she asks, hand outstretched. _

_ “Oh yeah,” he says, untucking the gun and handing it to her. He drops a kiss on her head. “I’m glad you’re home, Peg.” _

_ So is she. She waits until he’s almost to the stairs before calling softly, “Don’t be long, Mr. Sousa. A lady who’s been away ten days has certain needs, you know.” _

_ The words have the intended effect. She hears him stumble, catch himself, then chuckle. Peggy rises slowly as not to agitate her sore ribs, chucking her ruined blouse in the bin and stashing the gun in its hiding place. There’s truly no place like home. _

*

**October 15, 1986  
Wheaton, New Jersey**

“Peggy,” Dum Dum calls when he sees her in the doorway, “do you happen to recall where we were drinking in Brittany when the Nazis tried to pull a fast one on us?”

Peggy lowers the tea tray to the coffee table. “I’m afraid I’ll need you to be more specific, Dum Dum,” she says demurely, “as you’ve just described most of the summer of 1944.”

Dum Dum slaps his knee as he guffaws. “So, Michael,” he says, nudging her son’s shoulder, “is this the first time you’re hearing about your mom’s wartime heroics?”

Michael waits for his mother to serve the tea before answering. “No,” he says, stirring in a sugar cube, “not the first, but I hope not the last, either.”

Dum Dum reaches into his jacket. “Peggy,” he asks with a wink and a smile, “mind if I doctor mine a bit?” He mimes tipping the flask into his tea cup.

She snatches it from him. “Honestly, Dum Dum,” says Peggy, rolling her eyes. Then, in one fluid motion, she unscrews the flask and takes a shot. “Here,” she says, passing the whiskey back.

Dum Dum stares at the flask he’s been handed for a second, then begins to howl with laughter. “Miss Union Jack!” he declares. “Miss Union Jack!”

Peggy pretends not to notice the shot he pours into Michael’s cup. “C’mon, sit with us a bit,” her son urges, patting the seat on the couch next to him.

“Perhaps later, Michael,” Peggy replies, the back of her throat still hot. She could do with a bit of liquid courage to get through Daniel’s visitation. “I should check on your sister.”

She leaves the boys in uproarious laughter as Dum Dum recounts how, once, Peggy pretended to be the barmaid to get the slip on a German commander. Le Havre. They’d been in Le Havre, Normandy, not along the Brittany coast.

Peggy can hear Colleen on the phone with one of her aunts - the eldest, Vera, if the tone’s any indication - but before she can return to the kitchen, the front door swings open. Rose Samberly,  _ née _ Roberts, barges in. 

“Oomph,” complains Peggy as Rose traps her in a too-tight hug. “Rose, let go of me.”

“Oh, Peg,” Rose breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s quite all right, Rose,” Peggy says, resisting the urge to march back into the living room and demand Dum Dum hand over his flask. “I was never under any illusion I’d outlive Daniel.”

Rose, who’d also married a man several years her senior, bristles. “Really, Peg? So what, you wished this pain and heartache on yourself?”

“No, I - ”

Colleen materializes in the entryway, phone clutched to her chest. “Vera’s on the phone,” she announces. “She and Martin don’t like their hotel.”

“Oh, Vera doesn’t like something?” says Peggy, feigning surprise. “Whatever shall we do? Tell your aunt she is welcome to take her business to the Howard Johnson if she’s so inclined.”

“I can’t do that,” Colleen whispers, horrified. “She’s - ”

Peggy plucks the phone out of her daughter’s hand. “Vera, hello!” she says, faux cheerful. “Is the room not right?” She counts backwards from ten as her sister-in-law begins to list the many faults with their overnight accommodations. When Peggy gets to zero, she cuts in, “Oh, that’s really too bad. Unfortunately, I’m all out of beds, but you could try the motel off the interstate. I always see them advertising discounted rates. See you tonight!” She hangs up the phone and says to Colleen, “You know all your aunt wanted was a free room.”

“That’s Dad’s sister you’re talking about,” Colleen huffs, pressing herself against the wall so her mother can get down the tight hallway that leads to the kitchen.

“Who’s a notorious cheapskate,” Peggy points out. The casserole their next-door neighbor had dropped off is still sitting on the counter. Peggy reaches for it, but Colleen gets in the way.

“I still need to rearrange the fridge,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Oh, hun, let me do that,” Rose volunteers, bustling into the kitchen. She picks up the egg bake and shoos them both off. “Go on, get out of here.”

That’s when the back door opens with a bang as Peggy’s granddaughters tear into the house, giggling. “Melanie! Amy!” she calls. “Aren’t you going to come give Nana a hug?”

But Colleen is less excited to see her daughters than her mother is. “What are you doing?” she demands. “Look at the mud you’ve just tracked in!”

“We were just playing tag, Mom!” Amy pipes.

“You’re supposed to be upstairs getting ready for Papa’s visitation!” Colleen chides. “Who said you could go outside?”

Melanie and Amy exchange a look.  _ “Nana,”  _ they volunteer in unison, probably in hopes they’ll be quickly absolved of any wrongdoing.

In her own defense, Peggy offers, “We don’t need to head over to the church for another hour, Colleen.”

But it’s clear her daughter is furious. “Get upstairs, both of you,” Colleen hisses. “Amy Margaret, take your shoes off!” As soon as they’re thundering up the stairs, Colleen rounds on her mother. “An hour? Do you have any idea how long it takes to get two little girls bathed and changed into church clothes?” She snorts. “Of course you don’t. That was always Dad’s job.”

“Colleen - ”

They’re interrupted, however, by a swaying Dum Dum. “Peggy,” he hiccups, brandishing the now-empty flask, “could we possibly get a refill?”

Colleen wrenches it out of Dum Dum’s hand. “Can’t you tell your war stories without drinking everything in the house?” she snaps. She turns to her mother. “Why is he even here?”

Dum Dum hangs his head. He’s buried all of the Howling Commandos now, picked off one by one in service to their countries. Eventually the loss had been more than he could take, and he’d moved over to the CIA to work alongside Daniel. Peggy imagines she’s all Dum Dum has left.

“He’s here,” Peggy declares, taking possession of the flask from Colleen, “as both an old friend and a long-time colleague of your father’s.” She opens the liquor cabinet and refills the flask with practiced ease. With composure, she says, “Here you are, Mr. Dugan.”

*

**_May 17, 1972  
Wheaton, New Jersey_ **

_ “I need a favor,” Peggy announces, hovering in the doorway to their bedroom with a file clutched to her chest. _

_ Daniel, who’d doffed his leg an hour earlier, looks up from the book he’s been reading. “Oh, you do?” She marches over to the bed and hands him the file. He quirks an eyebrow at the classified stamp on the cover. “Do I even have the clearance to open this, Peg?” She doesn’t answer. He sighs. “OK, but if they come for me, I’m implicating - ” _

_ He blanches, which is exactly the reaction she’d had earlier that afternoon when the application landed on her desk. Peggy crosses her arms as she waits for her husband to page through it. Finally, Daniel closes the file and passes it back. “Well?” she prompts. _

_ He pulls off his reading glasses and rubs his temple. “Are you asking me as Director Carter or Mrs. Sousa? Because - ” _

_ “If I reject Michael, then one of the other agencies will scoop him up,” Peggy interrupts. There’s a lump in her throat. She swallows. “With his aptitude scores, he’ll likely have his pick.” _

_ Daniel nods once, twice, three times. “Peg,” he says, and he hesitates. “You know he’s dreamed of becoming a spy since he found out you were one.” _

_ “Yes, but - ” her voice cracks “ - I can’t, Daniel, I won’t do it. I’ve gone to two funerals this month already. If Michael goes the way of his namesakes - ” Peggy takes a deep, shuddering breath “ - no, I simply won’t allow it. He may hate me for it, but at least he’ll be alive.”  _

_ “Michael could never hate you,” Daniel reassures her. She isn’t nearly as certain. “C’mere, Peg.” _

_ She’s still fully clothed, but she crawls into bed next to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He strokes her hair and waits until she’s stopped crying to say, “I’ll make some calls in the morning, OK?” _

_ Peggy lifts her chin. “But don’t blacklist him. I don’t want his reputation tarnished.” _

_ “Of course not,” Daniel mutters, lips grazing her temple. “I’ll call in a few favors, tell the guys the missus can’t bear the thought.” _

_ “It’ll be news to some of them I have a heart,” Peggy quips, hand splayed across his chest as he chuckles. “Oh, Daniel. How is it that Michael is even old enough to join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I swear, we only moved into the house yesterday.” _

_ “You sure about that?” he replies, and she twists her head up to look at him. His hair’s more salt than pepper these days, forehead increasingly crinkled, but she’s still wildly attracted to the way his eyes light up when he smiles. “Because I seem to remember you being  _ very _ pregnant when we bought this house.” Daniel’s hand skims her waist. _

_ “And Colleen!” Peggy exclaims, laughing. “Getting married. Goodness gracious.” _

_ Daniel reaches for the bedside lamp. “We’re getting old, Peg.” The room goes dark. She should get up, change, but she’s content to listen to the steady thud of his heart. “She called today.” _

_ “Colleen did?” Peggy feels her husband nod. “Everything all right?” Usually, their daughter calls once a week, on Sundays.  _

_ “She - ” Daniel’s heart begins to beat very fast beneath her ear “ - wants me to walk her down the aisle next month.” _

_ Peggy is about to tell him that of course Colleen, the apple of her father’s eye, would want this, but before she can open her mouth, he’s saying, “Obviously, Richard will do it.” _

_ Her head snaps up so fast she almost catches him in the jaw. “Richard?” she repeats. “Why on earth would your brother give our daughter away at her wedding?” _

_ Even in the dark she can see he’s pleading with her not to make him say it. Finally, voice hardly more than a whisper, he says, “It’s Colleen’s big day, Peg. I don’t want to ruin it by tripping over her gown.” _

_ Peggy smooths a hand over his cheek. She’s not unsympathetic, but she needs him to change his mind. “First of all, Daniel, I don’t know why you think anyone will be paying attention to you with the dress Colleen’s picked out.” He kisses her thumb. “Secondly, you don’t think it’ll ruin her big day to not have her father by her side?” _

_ “It’s not like I won’t be there,” Daniel insists. “I’ll just - be in the pews with you and Michael.” _

_ “And what did Colleen say when you told her this?” _

_ He tugs at the collar of his t-shirt. “She begged me to reconsider.” _

_ “Uh-huh. Well, I think you should call your daughter tomorrow and see if she can make it down before the wedding to practice. I’m sure Father Roberts would be happy to open the church.” _

_ Daniel’s quiet for a long time. Peggy retreats to her side of the bed and waits for him to come to her. “You’re right,” he says at last, letting his cheek fall to her bosom. “You’re always right, Peg.” _

_ “Well,” she says, tousling his hair with her fingers, “it’s only taken you 23 years of marriage to notice.” _

*

**October 15, 1986  
Wheaton, New Jersey**

“I hate that I don’t have a bed for you,” Peggy tells Michael, dropping a stack of clean linens on the living room couch. She begins to unfold a blanket, but her son takes it from her.

“Really, Mom,” says Michael, setting the blanket down and clasping her hands in his, “I should be the one taking care of you. How are you holding up?”

“It was good of you to give up your room,” Peggy continues, absently rubbing the shoulder she’d dislocated so many years before. She stops herself before she calls out to Daniel for a neck massage. “I’m sure Colleen’s girls will appreciate it. You’re certain you’ll be fine out here? You could always - ”

“Please don’t offer me your room, Mom.”

“ - take our room.”

Michael sighs. “Try to keep in mind I’m a bachelor? Really, I’ve slept on way worse.”

Peggy cocks her chin. “Really, Michael?” She puts her hands on her hips. “A bachelor? Does Christopher know - ”

“What kind of an uncle,” Michael interrupts loudly as Melanie and Amy come thundering down the stairs, “makes his nieces take the couch?” He gives his mother a pointed look.

“You could have brought him, you know,” Peggy admonishes before calling to the youngest of her granddaughters, “Amy, what do you have there?”

“Nana!” squeals 8-year-old Amy, brandishing the red, white and blue shield that had been at the top of Michael’s Christmas list when he was her age. “I’m a superhero!”

“Of course you are, my love,” says Peggy, dropping into Daniel’s favorite armchair. She inhales deeply, wondering how long the smell of his cologne will linger. Amy wastes no time clambering in next to her grandmother. “And I have no doubt you asked your Uncle Michael before touching his old toys?”

Melanie sits cross-legged at Peggy’s feet, opening a shoebox full of action figures. “He said we should ask you about Captain America, Nana.”

“Did he now?” says Peggy, amused. “I don’t know what I’d tell you girls, seeing as your uncle is the resident expert on Captain America in this house.”

Michael, however, looks horrified. “Mel,” he hisses, “you weren’t supposed to come downstairs to ask - just, you know,  _ someday.” _

But this distinction is no doubt lost on an 11-year-old, even one as clever as her granddaughter. “Please, Nana?” Melanie begs. “I want to hear your Captain America story.”

“Me too!” pipes Amy.

“Well,” Peggy begins, “why don’t you start by telling me what Michael’s already told you?”

“He claims Captain America was a real person,” Melanie says, “but I’m not sure I believe him.”

“Then you’re going to find it very unbelievable when I tell you I served with Captain America in the war.”

_ “You did?” _

“I did,” Peggy confirms. Amy’s mouth drops open, but Melanie still looks skeptical. “Only I knew him as Steve Rogers. He wasn’t much of a superhero when I met him. He was just a skinny boy from Brooklyn.”

“Where’s Brooklyn?” Amy wants to know.

Melanie rolls her eyes. “It’s in New York,” she says, folding her hands and resting them on her grandmother’s knee. “How could he save people if he didn’t have any superpowers?”

“Well, Steve had a very good heart,” Peggy answers. Usually she’d feel a tightness in her chest talking about Captain America, but tonight she’s simply too exhausted. “At the time I worked for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, and we picked Steve for a special project. We were going to give him superpowers. Now you both know what the SSR is, right?”

“A wartime intelligence agency,” Melanie recites.

“Where you met Papa!” Amy chimes.

“You’re both right,” Peggy says with a smile. “There was a scientist who thought he could make scrawny Steve Rogers into America’s top soldier. And you know what? He was right. We made Steve very strong, which made him very good at fighting Nazis.”

“Nazis?” Amy repeats. 

“Germans,” Melanie tells her sister, “but mean ones.”

Peggy figures she should finish her story before Michael chokes trying not to laugh at the girls. “I told you Steve had a very good heart, didn’t I? Because that’s the most important part. He saved many, many men because he was determined to protect soldiers who weren’t super strong like he was. In fact, one of the men Steve saved was your grandfather.”

Amy scrunches her nose. “Papa fought in the war? But how? He only had one - ”

Before Peggy can intervene, Melanie rounds on her sister. “Are you stupid? How do you think he lost his leg in the first place?”

“Melanie Ann Walker!” Peggy gasps. “You apologize to your sister at once.”

Amy is dangerously close to tears. “I didn’t know! I just figured he only ever had one!”

Michael hooks Amy under the armpits and pulls her into his lap, shield and all. “Want to know a secret?” he asks. She nods solemnly. “Well, when I was about your age, Dad - your papa - tried to teach me to ride a bike. I couldn’t quite get the hang of it, though, so he kept rattling off these pointers that weren’t helping. I finally snapped. ‘What do you know?’ I hollered. ‘You don’t have two legs! You’ve never ridden a bike!’ One of the neighbor kids had to tell me he’d lost his leg in the war. I had no idea.”

“Oh my God,” Peggy laughs, “Michael, I’d forgotten! Your father came inside, utterly bewildered. He had no idea what to say to you. Neither of us did. It never occurred to us that we’d need to tell you why your father only had one leg when everyone else’s dad had two.” She feels Melanie tug on her pantyhose. “I haven’t heard you apologize to your sister yet.”

“Sorry, Amy,” Melanie mumbles. Thirty years ago, had one of her children made such a weak attempt at reconciliation, she would have demanded they try again. But it’s been a hard day for both girls, and Peggy lets it slide. Melanie and Daniel had been particularly close. “Nana?”

On the couch, Michael is resting his chin on Amy’s shoulder, pointing out various battle scars on the toy shield. “Yes, Melanie?”

“What happened to Captain America? I mean, your friend Steve.”

Peggy curls her arm around Melanie’s slim shoulders. “He died saving a great many people, my love.”

“I wish he were still around,” Melanie says bitterly, big brown eyes full of tears. “Maybe he could have saved Papa again.”

All day Peggy’s tried to be strong for her children and grandchildren, but her resolve is starting to crumble. She’s about to excuse herself when the front door creaks open. Colleen, who’d been out on the front porch talking to some neighbors, takes one look at the Captain America shield and snatches it out of Michael’s hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” she says furiously. “Not filling their heads with superhero nonsense, I hope.”

“Mommy!” says Amy brightly. “Nana told us all about her friend Captain America and how he - ”

“Oh, did she?” says Colleen, glaring at her mother. “Of course she did. Melanie, give me those.” She begins tossing action figures haphazardly back in the box. “There were Barbies in my room. I don’t know why your uncle didn’t think to get them out for you. David,” she calls, summoning her husband from the entryway, “will you take your daughters upstairs? There should be some suitable playthings for little girls in my closet.”

Even Amy seems to realize her mom means business, though she does continue to look back wistfully at the shield as her dad herds them up the stairs.

“C’mon, Colleen,” says Michael as soon as his nieces are out of earshot, “girl toys? Is it really that big of a deal if they want to play with action figures instead of dolls?”

She gets right up in her brother’s face. “Captain America, Michael? Really? Since you seem to have forgotten, our father died two days ago. Maybe we could refrain from discussing Mom’s old beaus until he’s buried?”

It’s Peggy’s cue to slip away. She retreats into the room she’d shared with Daniel, plucking one of his shirts from the laundry pile. She breathes in deeply. God, how she misses him already.

*

**_April 26, 1966  
Wheaton, New Jersey_ **

_ Peggy stops for a minute to consider what’s already in her suitcase, decides packing too many trousers never killed anybody and plucks a fourth pair from her closet. She smooths them over her arm, listening to Michael whoop and cheer outside her bedroom window. Just that afternoon Howard had sent Daniel a prototype of a new prosthesis to try. Peggy smiles. Judging by all the shouting, the tests 16-year-old Michael devised to try its capabilities must be going well. _

_ She’s supposed to be jetting off to Colombia in an hour, but Peggy finds herself momentarily distracted, peeking through the blinds while Michael runs to grab a catcher’s mitt from the shed. Daniel’s standing in the middle of the yard, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, hands buried in his pockets, his crutch nowhere in sight. “Dad, catch!” calls Michael. It’s almost more than she can take when Daniel steps forward on his right leg and plucks the glove out of the air.  _

_ “Well, Howard, you’ve successfully turned me into a pile of mush,” Peggy murmurs. She’ll let herself watch their impromptu game of catch for another minute, she decides, then she really needs to put her toiletries together. _

_ Her cue is a baby blue Ford Mustang rolling to a stop at the curb. The car belongs to Colleen’s new boyfriend, a senior she’d met at church. Peggy hears Colleen squeal excitedly when she sees her dad’s walking unassisted. David starts to get out, but to Peggy’s amusement, Daniel asks, “Won’t you be late for dinner, son?” They both think David’s too old for their 15-year-old daughter. _

_ “Dad,” Colleen says crossly once David’s gone, “must you scare him off every time?” _

_ Peggy knows Daniel’s eyes are following the blue Mustang down the block. “Have you told him I carry a gun?” he says, kissing his daughter’s cheek. He steers her toward the house. “Now run in and say goodbye to your mother, she’s leaving soon.” _

_ “Dammit, Daniel,” Peggy mutters. She’d been planning to break the news she was leaving to Colleen herself. From the window, she watches their daughter’s whole demeanor change. _

_ “Mom’s leaving? When?” _

_ Before he can answer, Colleen’s dashed inside, through the living room, into the den they’d converted years earlier for want of a first-floor bedroom. “Is it true?” Colleen demands, hanging in the doorway. Her eyes land on the suitcase open on her parents’ bed. “You’re leaving.” _

_ “I won’t be gone long,” says Peggy, throwing her hairbrush into her train case. “A week, two at most.” _

_ She can feel her daughter’s eyes on her as she grabs bottles and brushes off the bathroom counter. “But prom’s Saturday,” Colleen points out. “You promised you’d help me get ready.” _

_ “I’m sure your Aunt Inês would be happy to come over,” Peggy replies. When Colleen makes a face, Peggy continues, gentle but firm, “There will be other dances, Colleen.” _

_ “Not with David!” Colleen huffs. _

_ Peggy latches her suitcase. “Colleen, there will undoubtedly be other boys.” _

_ There’s a dark glint in her daughter’s eyes Peggy doesn’t like. “Why?” Colleen says haughtily. “Because that’s how it was for you? Because I’m not like you. When David and I get married, I won’t run off and leave my husband and kids for weeks at a time, either.” _

_ “Colleen, I’m truly very sorry to miss your first dance,” says Peggy diplomatically, “but it’s out of my hands. The telephone company - ” _

_ She’s interrupted by Colleen’s bitter laugh. “I’m not stupid, Mom. I know you don’t really work for New Jersey Bell.” _

_ Peggy freezes. But she quickly regains her composure. “Colleen, what are you talking about? I’ve worked for the phone company for years, ever since we moved here from California, and I worked for Pacific Bell before - ” _

_ “Stop lying to me! I know the truth, OK? I’ve known for ages what you really do. Michael told me. You’re a spy. He says he even caught Dad stitching you up once after a mission. I didn’t believe him, though, asked all my teachers if they’d ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D. None of them had. Then finally he convinced me - he picked the lock on your briefcase and showed me a thick stack of files stamped confidential.” _

_ Stunned, Peggy demands, “Michael did what?” _

_ “You heard me,” Colleen retorts. “So are you going to continue to deny it? Or are you ready to admit you’re a spy?” _

_ “Don’t be ridiculous, Colleen,” Peggy snaps. “If you’d opened even one of those files you’d know I’m not a spy, but the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” _

_ The defiant look slides off Colleen’s face. “You’re - wait, what?” _

_ “I lead an extra-governmental military intelligence agency formed in the late 1940s as a global peacekeeping organization,” Peggy explains. “To use your term, I’m not a ‘spy’ so much as I’m the woman who oversees them.” The town car that will take her to McGuire Air Force Base will be here momentarily, and she simply must warn Daniel their children have figured out her ruse before she goes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with your father.” _

_ Colleen grabs her mother’s elbow. “That’s it? You’re just going to go?” _

_ “Since you now know what I do, then surely you’ll understand why it’s more important I go on this mission than stay for your silly little dance,” Peggy snaps, as most of her willpower in this moment is going to keep her temper in check and her training from kicking in. She’d rather not have to explain to Daniel while their teenage daughter is sprawled unconscious on the living room floor. “Now if you’ll kindly unhand me.” _

_ “I hate you,” Colleen hisses. “I hate you. I hate you. I - ” the front door opens “ - hate you.” _

_ Peggy thinks Daniel must reach for his crutch, propped against the sofa, out of habit, so he has something to cling to as the world crashes down around them. His dark eyes dart back and forth between his daughter to his wife. “What’s going on, Peg?” he asks, clearly bewildered. _

_ Michael, rightly, pulls the door shut behind him. _

_ “Well, Daniel, it seems our children have known for some time I neither operate a switchboard nor do Mr. Phillips’ filing, but rather work for a secret government organization as a spy,” Peggy says. “Now, when I get back from - ” she catches herself before she says Colombia “ - where I’m going, we are going to sit down and talk about this as a family. Until then, I trust you will impress upon our children the importance of not saying anything about what they think they know to any friends or boyfriends.” _

_ This, of course, is directed at Colleen, but Peggy’s a spy for Christ sakes so of course she sees Michael quickly avert his eyes as well. A nondescript Lincoln Continental pulls into the drive. _

_ “Peg,” says Daniel uncomfortably. _

_ “Can’t talk now, darling, my ride’s here.” Peggy turns to her son. “Michael, would you please go grab my suitcases?” _

_ He looks too stunned to disobey. Michael emerges from his parents’ bedroom a few seconds later, bags in hand. “Do you want me to carry these - ” _

_ “Have the driver put them in the boot,” she commands, and Michael scurries outside. She turns to her husband. “Daniel?” _

_ “I don’t know about this, Peg,” he mutters, now gripping his crutch white-knuckled. “What if something happens while you’re away?” _

_ She knows he means with the kids, but she gives him the usual directive anyway. “Then kiss me like you mean it, Mr. Sousa, or you might not have anything to remember me by.” _

_ But it’s a miscalculation to say it in front of Colleen. “Is that all we are to you?” her daughter says incredulously. “A convenient cover?” _

_ Peggy bristles. “Of course you aren’t - Colleen!” _

_ Upstairs, her daughter’s bedroom door slams. “I’ll talk to her,” Daniel promises, kissing Peggy’s cheek. “Go,” he urges, “before you miss your flight.” _

_ More like before she makes the situation any worse. _

*

**October 16, 1986  
Wheaton, New Jersey**

The rain begins to fall during Daniel’s funeral mass, fat drops accumulating on the stained glass behind Father de Rosa. Peggy watches the condensation collect as the rest of the family files up to take communion. She’d been raised Anglican, of course, but truth be told had little use for the church. Daniel, on the other hand, was the son of Portuguese immigrants, a regular attendee of the Saturday night service. 

“You could have come up,” Michael whispers, sliding back into the seat next to his mother. He squeezes Peggy’s hand. “Father de Rosa would have been happy to bless you. I hated seeing you all alone out here.”

She makes a noncommittal noise as Colleen’s family files into the pew. Of their children, it had been Colleen who shared her father’s enthusiasm for religion, mouth agape as the then-priest, Father Patrick, delivered the liturgy in Latin. Michael would fuss and fidget during long services (not that Peggy could blame him), but Colleen had been content to crawl onto her father’s lap, Daniel’s chin resting on her head.

Tears are streaming down Colleen’s cheeks today, and Peggy releases Michael’s hand to reach across his lap for her daughter’s. To her surprise, Colleen latches on, holding tight for the rest of mass.

After, Michael jerks a thumb in the direction of some high school classmates sitting in the back of the church. “I’m just going to say hi to the guys,” he says, but Peggy knows he’s really giving her a moment alone with Colleen. David must also get the memo, as he hustles the girls off to see his parents.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Colleen breathes, clinging to Peggy for dear life. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. Sunday night after we talked, I told David we needed to find a weekend to come down for a visit, not wait until Thanksgiving to see you guys. The very next morning you call to say Dad’s died.”

Peggy pulls back so she can see her daughter’s face. “Oh, Colleen. I know. I always thought we’d have more time, years before we had to say goodbye to him.”

Colleen sniffs. “I keep thinking about what all he’ll miss. Mel’s confirmation, Amy’s birthday. But then I thought of you, Mom, all alone in that house with me and Michael so far away. I’m sorry I raised my voice with you last night. It just hurt to see the girls with all of those silly toys Michael used to play with.” She shakes her head. “I never understood why Dad let them in the house.”

“Colleen, your father didn’t care if Michael wanted to play with Captain America’s shield because he understood something you never have.” Peggy cups her daughter’s face. “Steve Rogers was not the love of my life. I just didn’t know it until I met your father.”

“But - ”

“I loved Steve for a few months in 1945,” Peggy tells her daughter. “I’ll love your father until the day I die.”

Colleen looks as though she might burst into a fresh round of tears. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she says again, biting her lip. “For everything.”

“Why?” Peggy asks. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Colleen. Though you will, if you don’t go right this instance and rescue your poor husband from Inês.”

It’s overwhelming how many people have turned up to pay their respects. Peggy’s embraced, in order, by Michael’s fourth grade teacher, her daughter’s mother-in-law, the diner waitress who’d always flirted with Daniel, three past presidents of the elementary school PTA and U.S. Senator Frank Lautenberg. Needless to say, when she sees a clear path to the doors, she takes it, even if the rain means she’ll have to reset her curls.

“I would ask what a proper Englishwoman is doing without a rainshade,” says Jarvis, suddenly materializing with an appropriately somber black umbrella, “but it’s hardly appropriate for me to criticize a widow at her husband’s funeral.”

Their old dentist - he’d given her a root canal on the wrong tooth, once - approaches. “Walk with me, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy commands.

“I was terribly sorry to hear of Mr. Sousa’s passing,” says Jarvis, once they’ve escaped the other mourners. “Though I must admit I was unaware he was ailing.”

“I’m afraid you weren’t the only one,” Peggy says, careful to keep her expression neutral. “I asked him twice what he wanted for breakfast before I realized he’d died in the night.”

Jarvis’ eyes bulge. “My goodness, Miss Carter,” he says when he recovers. “I see you have not lost your wicked sense of humor.”

She hugs him tightly. “It’s so very good to see you, Mr. Jarvis.”

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” he replies. “I do regret missing the visitation last night. You are aware, surely, of the situation with Master Anthony?”

“A file did land on my desk, yes,” Peggy replies. She hadn’t been the least bit surprised to hear Howard’s 16-year-old son was in trouble for hacking the Pentagon. She had, however, been a little put out when her old friend hadn’t reached out for help cleaning up the mess. “I will admit I was most surprised when the entire incident resolved itself with nary a word from Howard.”

“Mr. Stark sends his regrets, of course. Unfortunately, as he is in Europe with Mrs. Stark at the moment, he was unable to slip away.”

Peggy has met Howard’s wife exactly twice, in passing at the couple’s wedding and a few years later at a state dinner where they’d happened to end up at the same table. Maria had seemed nice enough, though when she’d stood she’d grabbed Peggy’s hand and thanked her and “Douglas” for a wonderful evening. 

“No, of course,” Peggy tells Jarvis primly.

“It was very good to see Miss Colleen and Master Michael again,” says Jarvis. “What a beautiful family your daughter has! I was sorry to miss Mr. Devereaux, however. Do give him my best.”

Peggy sighs. “I would if he were here, Mr. Jarvis, but I’m afraid Michael didn’t want to bring him. Something about not wanting to make a statement at his father’s funeral.”

Jarvis frowns. “Didn’t Mr. Sousa know?”

“Of course Daniel knew,” Peggy confirms. “It’s the aunts and uncles that Michael worries about. He doesn’t want people to talk, which I can respect, but I fear always excluding Christopher will only end badly.”

Across the street, St. Peter’s has finally emptied. A dark-haired teenager sits on the steps. “As much as I would like to stay, I must collect Master Anthony. We have an engagement later today in Manhattan I’m afraid can’t be missed.”

Peggy takes this to mean “parole hearing” and surprises Jarvis by hugging him tightly. “Oh, Mr. Jarvis,” she says, “please tell me it gets easier.”

It’s been a decade since he buried Ana. “Not easier, but certainly more bearable,” he says with a sad smile. “Miss Carter.”

“Mr. Jarvis.”

*

**_January 22, 1948  
Los Angeles, California_ **

_ The pain in her gut is sharp, very different from the low-level aches she’s grown accustomed to these nearly seven months. She’s lying on scratchy, hospital-issue sheets, left arm immobilized. Peggy’s hand flies to the swell of her belly. _

_ “Peggy,” says Daniel, his face swimming into focus. “Thank goodness.” _

_ Peggy tries to sit up. This is a mistake. The corners of her vision begin to blur. She gasps. _

_ Daniel’s touch is light as he helps her ease back onto the bed. “Careful, Peg,” he says lightly, though his worried face betrays him. She wonders how long he’s been sitting at her bedside. She’s frankly surprised to see him, their last exchange being what it was. He’d confronted her, finally, about the pregnancy she’d concealed from him for so long. _

_ “The baby?” Peggy croaks. She closes her eyes. When she opens them again, Daniel’s hung his head.  _

_ “No, Peg,” he whispers. “You lost the baby.” _

_ The sob catches in her throat. For months, she’d waffled about whether she wanted this child. Well, she has an answer now, only it’s too late. Peggy begins to cry. “I’m sorry,” she manages. “Daniel, I’m so very - ” _

_ He’d finally confronted her, armed with information from Jarvis about the lengths she’d taken to hide the fact she was with child. “Who do you think you are?” she’d demanded. “How do you even know this baby - if there is a baby - is yours?” _

_ She’d then stormed out of his office - and into a trap set by Senator Chadwick. _

_ Peggy squeezes her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling. She hears Daniel lift his hand before it closes hesitantly around hers. “Listen to me, Peg. I’m the one who’s sorry. You shouldn’t have had to carry this burden on your own. If I did something to make you think you couldn’t come to me - ” _

_ “Hadn’t I done enough?” Peggy interjects. She’d undoubtedly ruined his relationship with Violet when, in the aftermath of the failed raid on the Arena Club, she’d uncorked a bottle of Howard’s best scotch and insisted that they not put off that drink a minute longer. One thing had led to another, until they were tearing off each other’s clothes in the sticky July heat. _

_ The next morning - though she’d slept better in Daniel’s arms than any night in recent memory - she’d encouraged him to go back to Violet. He hadn’t, of course. But he hadn’t pursued Peggy, either. A month later, she was dashing out of briefings to throw up, and ultimately it had been Rose who dragged Peggy to the doctor to confirm her pregnancy. She’d been keeping Daniel at arm’s length ever since. _

_ “I think there’s enough blame to go around, Peg,” Daniel says quietly, eyes darting to her belly, thin hospital gown doing little to obscure the bump. His eyes flicker back to hers. Peggy realizes he’s seeking permission. _

_ “Well,” she says briskly, “it is yours.”  _

_ “Of course it’s mine,” Daniel replies, smoothing a hand cautiously across her abdomen. “You’re not that kind of girl, Peg.” _

_ She swallows. Her voice is hardly more than a whisper. “And the doctor didn’t think there was any chance?” _

_ He squeezes her hand. “No, Peg.” He ducks his head before mumbling, “I think we’re lucky you’re alive.” _

_ Peggy notices for the first time how red his eyes are. The infirmary door swings open. Jack’s appearance in Los Angeles does not bode well for her. Neither does the expression of the SSR doctor, whom she knows by face but not by name. Peggy resigns herself to Daniel dropping her hand, to putting a more respectable distance between himself and his subordinate. But then he doesn’t let go. _

_ Appearances be damned, apparently. _

_ Jack hangs back as the doctor checks Peggy’s IV. He doesn’t bother introducing himself. “I’m going to give you something to induce labor,” he says, unloading a syringe into the line. As soon as he’s done this, he heads for the door. _

_ “So I’m to deliver a dead baby, then?” Peggy demands. She’s still rather hoarse, but her words are clear. _

_ The doctor pauses. “You’re too far along for curettage,” he grunts. _

_ Peggy can’t help it. She glances up at Daniel before asking, “Doctor, will I be able to have more children?” _

_ “Listen, lady, the SSR doesn’t employ obstetricians,” he sneers, and he’s gone.  _

_ Daniel runs his thumb gently along her pulse point. It occurs to Peggy he had to have known what was coming when he sat down. She can practically hear the brusque doctor announcing to the two bureau chiefs, “Well, Miss Carter will have to get the fetus out somehow.” A tear rolls down her cheek. Daniel brushes it away. _

_ “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises her.  _

_ Jack clears his throat. “A word, Chief Sousa?” No answer. “Sousa, d’you hear me? I need to talk to you.” _

_ “We can talk later, Jack,” Daniel replies, voice quiet, but firm. “I’m not leaving Peggy.” _

_ Jack snorts. “I’ll wait for you to reconsider.” _

_ “Get out of here, Jack,” Daniel mutters under his breath. _

_ “What was that, Sousa?” _

_ Daniel says it again, louder this time. “Get out of here, Jack. Give Peggy some space.” _

_ “I don’t see you giving her much space,” Jack quips, but he heads for the door just the same. It must be clear Daniel’s not going to budge. _

_ But then Jack doubles back. “This is on you, you know,” he tells Daniel. “We both know this never would have happened if Peggy hadn’t requested a transfer to your office. If she can’t go back in the field on account of your piss-poor management skills - ” he wags an accusatory finger “ - then I’ll - ” _

_ “Chief Thompson,” Peggy interrupts, “is that any way to speak to a man who’s just lost a child?” _

_ Jack’s jaw falls slack. Normally Peggy would get a kick out of the wide-eyed look of shock and incredulity on his face, but it brings her no joy today. He hadn’t realized the baby was Daniel’s. Jack had simply been berating the other bureau chief for not keeping her in line. She sees only one way out of this. _

_ “You did this?” Jack says angrily. “You didn’t just let this happen, you made it happen? This is - ” he rubs his mouth “ - it’s unbelievable, that’s what it is. How do you expect - ” _

_ “I’ll quit,” says Peggy, words she will probably regret later when she’s not in so much pain she can hardly think straight. “You think I should, don’t you? Well, then, that’s what I’ll do. I quit. You know, just in case I happen to fall pregnant again.” _

_ Her name tumbles out of Daniel’s mouth like a plea. “Peggy,” he begs, “don’t do that.” _

_ Jack is still rather bug-eyed, like he can’t quite believe what’s transpired. “Let her, Sousa,” he snaps. “Marge, I accept your - ” _

_ “I quit.” This time, it’s Daniel who says it. “Peg’s a much better agent than I am. I’ll stay home with the kids.” _

_ It’s a bold statement - they’re technically not even together - but when he lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses it, Peggy can see it. She can’t help it. She laughs. “OK,” she agrees. She’s quite possibly delirious.  _

_ “One condition, Peg,” Daniel says softly. His knuckles graze her taut, rounded stomach. “You gotta stay outta the field while pregnant. Would you do that for me?” _

_ Now she remembers the explosion that leveled half a city block. The volatile Zero Matter had at last consumed Whitney Frost, but not before the actress had tossed Peggy over a balcony like a rag doll. No wonder their baby hadn’t survived. _

_ “I can, Daniel,” Peggy promises. She can, and she will. _

_ Jack makes a disgusted noise, perhaps because neither Peggy nor Daniel is paying him one lick of attention. “Fine,” he mutters. “Fine.” _

_ He stalks out of the room. _

_ Daniels laughs shakily. “So which of us quit?” _

_ “I think we both did.” Peggy stares up at him. “Kiss me, Daniel.” _

_ Before he can, Jack’s back. “What I wanted to tell you, Sousa, is that I’m taking a job with the Department of Defense.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Tell you what. If you set a date, there’ll be no mention of any of this in the official report.” _

_ He slams the door hard enough to shake Peggy’s bed. “So Jack quit,” she says conversationally as Daniel fusses with her sheets and pillows. “That was certainly unexpected.” Summoning what little strength she has, she grabs him by the jacket and drags him down for a chaste kiss. _

_ “We’ll have plenty of time for that later,” says Daniel, stroking her cheek. “Let’s get you through tonight, first.” _

_ Peggy thinks the medicine the doctor had given her is already starting to work. She can feel the pressure mounting in her pelvis. “You don’t have to stay,” she tells Daniel. “I’m afraid what happens next will be unpleasant.” She wonders what condition their child will be in, if it’ll resemble a baby at all. _

_ Daniel pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to stay, if that’s OK with you.” _

_ The first contraction catches Peggy off-guard. She clutches Daniel’s hand tightly as the pain in her lower back rolls through her abdomen. “I’m scared,” she hears herself admit when it’s over. _

_ “Me too, Peg.” There’s something he seems reluctant to say. “I’m not sure we can do this just the two of us.” _

_ The door swings open again, but this time it’s only Rose. “Hey, Peg,” she says warmly, pulling up a chair on the other side of her friend’s bed. “I hope you don’t mind me being here.” _

_ “Of course not, Rose,” Peggy replies. She has little doubt Daniel asked his secretary to be there. _

_ Eventually Rose declares it time to push. “You ready, Peg? On three. One ... two ... ” _

Three.

*

**October 17, 1986  
Bourne, Massachusetts**

Overcast skies follow them to Massachusetts, where Daniel will be interred. Peggy hadn’t really understood why her husband wanted to be buried in the veterans cemetery in a state where he hadn’t resided in nearly half a century, at least not until she’s watching Isabel throw flowers into her brother’s open grave. Isabel had in one day in 1945 lost both her fiancé and eldest brother at Okinawa, their bodies never recovered. She looks relieved, Peggy thinks, to have Daniel so near.

If Peggy’s honest with herself, she’s never been much for visiting graves. She hasn’t been back to her brother Michael’s since her mother passed, and she’s been only once to the cemetery in Los Angeles where they’d had their daughter buried. Peggy had called Daniel, distraught, when she’d been unable to locate a grave for Eloise. She remembers how his voice had hitched, as he reminded her that was just what they’d come to call her, after the Belgian nurse who’d persuaded the surgeon to operate on Daniel rather than load him up with morphine. Sure enough, when she’d asked the caretaker for help, he’d looked up “Baby Girl Sousa” in the records for 1948 and pointed Peggy to the children’s section.

The whole experience had left Peggy feeling empty. She’d ended her business trip early to get home to her living children, and she’d misappropriated S.H.I.E.L.D. resources to track down the nurse who’d saved Daniel’s life. The search had led to another grave, in Antwerp, where Eloise was buried. She’d died one week shy of V-E Day.

Peggy had made a point of stopping in Antwerp the next time she had business in Europe, and she’d left a wreath on Eloise’s grave. She’d never mentioned her strange pilgrimage to Daniel.

She’d also stopped going to cemeteries if she could help it.

Colleen, her face red and puffy, catches her mother in a tight hug. “We’re still on for next week?” she asks. “I don’t want you to spend your first anniversary without Dad alone.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Peggy assures her daughter, though her assistant will throw a fit when she tells him to cancel her Thursday and Friday meetings so she can take a long weekend to visit Colleen’s family in Philadelphia. 

Richard and Inês leave first, followed closely by Vera and Martin. Isabel, the only one of Daniel’s siblings Peggy can stand, hugs her sister-in-law tightly before departing. Isabel’s husband has Alzheimer’s. Peggy imagines it won’t be long before they must assemble again to say goodbye to James.

Soon Peggy’s alone. Well, almost alone. She lifts her head and calls out, amused, “Jack, I can see you behind that tree.”

These days, he’s a high-ranking official in the Department of Defense, but Peggy’s never quite gotten over the urge to poke fun at her old boss. “I wasn’t hiding,” Jack huffs, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Did the obituary not specify family only?” Peggy teases. She studies him. Age has softened his sharp features.

“Close enough,” Jack mutters. He glances curiously at the hole in the ground. “Good man,” he says at last.

“Wasn’t he?” Peggy replies, a little wistfully.

They chat about Colleen’s family - Jack’s got a daughter the same age - and how his wife has been. “Did I somehow miss Michael?”

Peggy shakes her head. “I forced him to drive back to D.C. last night,” she tells Jack. “His editor called to say a big interview they’d been trying to score came through. Michael waffled, but let’s be honest. Daniel wouldn’t have wanted Michael to miss an opportunity on his account.”

“I don’t suppose you ask the president to reschedule,” Jack muses.

Peggy chuckles. “No, I don’t suppose you do,” she says. Then she frowns. “Just one second. I didn’t say the interview was with Reagan.”

He smiles that infuriating smile, the one she had come to hate back in their SSR days. “No,” he agrees. “You didn’t.” Jack clears his throat. “Daniel called about a week ago, wanted to know if I remembered him pulling a few strings for me back when he left the CIA in ’81. Said, ‘Of course I do. But since that’s the last favor I plan to owe you, Sousa, sure you want to blow it on this?’ He was sure.”

A week ago, Peggy had come home after a particularly draining day at the office and demanded Daniel rub her feet. No wonder he’d been so quick to agree. As soon as she’d kicked her shoes off, she’d started divulging very privileged information about the devolving Iran situation. “You’re telling me,” says Peggy, “Daniel arranged for our son to blow the lid on the Contra affair?”

“C’mon, Marge, you know it’s only a matter of time before the press gets wind of it.” Jack scuffs one very expensive shoe in the dirt. “Why shouldn’t your kid get the credit?”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” says Peggy, still not in love with the idea though she’ll concede it’s so very Daniel. He’d never quite forgiven himself for pulling Michael off the eligibility lists, dashing their son’s dreams, though he’d done it at her behest.

Jake takes a deep breath. “I think he knew, Peggy.”

“Knew what?”

“The end was near. Why else would he have called me?”

True to his word, Jack had left all mention of Peggy’s pregnancy out of the incident report on the Isodyne matter. The Sousas had married within the year, and not long after, the SSR had closed the Los Angeles bureau, recalling Daniel to New York and laying off the heavily pregnant Peggy. She wasn’t out of work for long, however. She’d been approached for the S.H.I.E.L.D. job before she’d even left the hospital with Michael. Needless to say, she hadn’t been amused when on her first day back at work Jack strolled in, introducing himself as the newly-minted agency’s liaison at the Department of Defense.

Those early days had been fraught with disagreement, but eventually, they’d developed a courteous, if not cordial, working relationship. Daniel’s opinion of Jack, however, had never really changed after how he’d treated Peggy’s pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage. It wasn’t until the 1970s Daniel could even stand to be in the same room as Jack.

Peggy forces a smile. “Perhaps you’re right.” But deep down, she’s inclined to believe Jack. “Is your grandson well?”

Jack’s already reaching for his wallet when he asks, “You want to see pictures? I just bought the missus a fancy new camera. Here.” In one photo, a boy with a cowlick beams over a 9-candled birthday cake. In another, Jack’s helping the same boy, who wears leg braces, walk around the yard. “He lives with us, you know.”

Peggy hasn’t forgotten about the accident that claimed the lives of Dennis’ parents. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see a black sedan rolling to a stop outside the cemetery gates. “Give my best to Violet,” Peggy says.

“Will do,” Jack promises. Then he stops. “And Peggy? For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Peggy smiles. “But what for, Jack?” 

“You tell me,” says Jack, and he’s gone.

Her ride will be here any minute. Peggy lets the rose Isabel had given her flutter out of her hand and land atop the casket. “Goodbye, my love,” she tells Daniel. “It is because of you I have lived a life.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to my two tremendous betas, [lazaefair](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair) and [frommybookbook](http://frommybookbook.tumblr.com). As I wrote this, most of our exchanges were as follows:
> 
> Me: Is this just sticking the knife in and twisting it?
> 
> lazaefair: If you have to ask ... *mimics sprinkling salt in a wound*
> 
> You can find me [on Tumblr](http://em2mb.tumblr.com).
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Some odds and ends:**
> 
>  
> 
> \- In the late 1940s and early 1950s, many couples sat for a formal wedding portrait rather than have a photographer at the ceremony. The photo Peggy’s looking at in the first scene is based loosely on [this photo](https://40.media.tumblr.com/09f1f0b1203cf88213f77ab06295dea7/tumblr_o29ehhgSm91uuq30xo1_540.jpg) of my grandparents.
> 
> \- [Peggy, age 65?](http://mamalaz.tumblr.com/post/134275765389/i-have-lived-a-life-my-only-regret-is-that-you)
> 
> \- [Here's who we'd cast as an adult Michael](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0047332/) (those ears!).  
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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